


greedfall endgame ficlet

by VirtualCarrot (Kaoro)



Series: Greedfall tumblr ficlets [1]
Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Co-dependence, End-Game spoilers, Gen, non-gendered de sardet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoro/pseuds/VirtualCarrot
Summary: Kurt has known the two royal cousins since they were children. He should have seen the signs, and perhaps he did.
Series: Greedfall tumblr ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629730
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	greedfall endgame ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> okay so the writing is pretty heavy handed and all I'm super rusty and I was never much of a writer to begin with BUT I HAD FEELINGS

Kurt didn’t originally care for his posting as a master of arms and during the first months of coexistence with his pupils he didn’t bother getting to know them. He trained, defended, berated them in turns, and when he wasn’t doing so he seethed in silence before them, bitter and isolated and eaten by what-ifs and the dark shadows of innocence lost. Pushing back memories of being their age and so very far from carefree left little room for any other sort of judgement.

Time smoothed his rancor. He started forgetting to resent the ruined youth they reminded him of, found himself smirking with instead of at them. Worse, through the echoes of his own childhood that followed his thoughts of them, he grew to care. By the time he started seeing them for who they were, he had stepped through the looking glass and beyond and it was too late for him to even think to question the unusual bond that united the two cousins. The De Sardet and d'Orsay spawns were one and only, the little prince and his fair cousin, their lives so intertwined that even in the privacy of his own thoughts only long years of acquaintanceship and an expedition to the other side of the world would finally allow Kurt to consider them as separate entities.

Constantin was a taker at his core, and his joviality a lure. He used, grabbed, held, consumed, pulled the world to himself and the edge of his precipice like it sat on a tablecloth, seeking to fill the holes that his father cut into him. His affections were as intense as they were fleeting and he discarded people like so many candles burnt past use, a sea of melted wax where only De Sardet remained, shining bright and constant. Constantin never took more from his cousin than could be given to him, though Kurt wondered if that wasn’t merely because De Sardet would give him any and everything regardless. He didn’t have to ask, needed only reach out, palm up, for his cousin to hand him the sparks of life he so seeked and close his fingers tight around them so he didn’t let go.

Once, pleasantly tipsy at a tavern, feeling loose and warm and detached from worldly concerns, Kurt’s wandering mind made him ponder how purposefully De Sardet was being groomed into supporting the Prince’s heir. The thought hung in the air like a thin morning mist and dissipated with his next sip of ale. The Princess de Sardet cared too much for the children and the Prince d'Orsay, too little. If anything, his failed attempts to bend his son to his will had proven how little he knew about molding young minds. He’d pick him apart and tear off the displeasing parts and when that failed to build his child into his own image he’d walk out with scorn and leave the pieces scattered behind. De Sardet would pick them up and put them back and then hold Constantin tight until the pieces held together.

And held they did, though like all broken things his edges remained sharp. The little prince was airy and frivolous and charming but raise that veil and poke his hurt and he became incisive in all the ways that he failed to be during training. Kurt didn’t care. He had been pierced with real steel and Constantin’s jabs were nothing to him. He’d smirk in the little prince’s face and push him into position and they’d start again under de Sardet’s watchful eyes. 

Sometimes Kurt would push Constantin just a little bit further, bruise him just a bit deeper than necessary, as a lesson to his cousin. De Sardet failed that test every single time.

De Sardet kept failing that test every time fate presented it.

“He ' _believes'_ ?! He ran here without full knowledge of what happened first hand ?”

Kurt watched the guard fold in on himself and sputter an answer, eyes downcast. With each word De Sardet’s face grew tighter and tighter until only ingrained habits of diplomacy were left to protect the guard from the legate’s mounting fury.

“I’m still having trouble deciding if cowardice or intelligence got the best of you.”

Before Cera’s death, before the High King’s killing, before meddling with the native’s election, at that precise moment where they all hurried after the legate’s blue billowing cape, watched the Congregation blazon catch the light of the chandelier before disappearing around a corner of the palace, Kurt should have realized that whatever growth, peace and healing their adventures through Teer Fradee had brought him and their traveling companions had failed De Sardet. 

Days later, when the cousins emerge from the temple at the heart of the island, hand in hand, their foreheads crowned with so many thorns, Kurt isn’t really surprised. He should have known. Perhaps he did.

It feels like coming out of a dream and awakening to reality, watching his two fledglings turned birds of prey.


End file.
